Traveller Campaign

[O Dinas Powys]

You will be pleased/indifferent/sad ...

Sad, definitely sad 

[Last Hussar]

Warspite will not have the same number of crew at the end of it.

Recruitment?

[fsn]

The humans watched the newcomers caper and howl around them. Lady Kelete and her troop viewed their foe with stolid implacability. The volunteers were less sure and grasped their weapons in sweaty hands. The Collator moved between them, offering comforting words and perhaps some psionic fortitude. York had arranged his team – Smita at the back; Lydia, Rowan and Alder in front of her, bows ready and Alison and York at the front – solid and armoured and intimidating.

York picked out one of the newcomers who appeared to be watching and controlling; a leader or chieftain of some kind.
"Rowan, can you pick off that one?" he asked, pointing at the target with his axe.
"Which one?"
"The ugly green one with the spear."
"There are lot's of ugly one with spears." But as she responded, an arrow flew and took the chieftain in the throat. The brute fell, gurgling and pawing at the arrow.
"Ha! They've not seen bows before." Exulted York. The newcomers in the vicinity of the dying chieftain started at the casualty in silence. Then, they resumed their howling and shaking of weapons. Some stones were thrown in return, but most fell short. 
"I think you've made them angry." Observed Alison sourly.

"Drone incoming" Alex's voice was a welcome glimpse of hope.
"What payload?" Asked York.
"Err ... supplies. "
"Supplies?"
"Food and water ... and ..."
"And?" growled York.
"Cakes." Alex finished lamely. York turned to look sternly at Lydia. Pointedly ignoring him, she loosed a shaft at another chieftain.

"How long for an armed drone?" Asked York. 
"One is being prepped now. Should be with you in fifteen minutes."
"We may all be dead in fifteen minutes. Send this drone over their heads – buzz them. It may put them off for a bit." York looked around, scanning the sky. He couldn't see the drone, but knew it was there.  The comdots they all wore had a very limited range, and needed the drone to maintain contact with the Warspite.

The newcomers had reached a point where they were fired up enough to take attack. They didn't attack en masse, two or three would detach themselves from crowd and rush at the humans.  Alison deftly avoided a clumsy spear and nearly took of the hand that held it. York was not as elegant, but he wielded his axe powerfully, cutting through a shield and the head that hid behind it.

Elsewhere, one of the volunteers had fallen. Two newcomers tried to drag away the body, but one of Kelete's soldiers slew one and put the other to flight.

York scanned the sky again, and saw the drone diving towards the fight. He grinned, and hacked ruthlessly at another newcomer.

"Dammit!" Alex's voice was distorted. Something was wrong. The Collator stood with arms raised, facing the oncoming drone, which wobbled and dipped.
"Nooo!" screamed York.  The Collator had struck the drone with some kind of psionic blast. Damaged, it wobbled away towards the Warspite. The newcomers had barely noticed, never having had to watch the sky, and they continued to ramp up their frenzy.

A half dozen newcomers broke from the group and rushed towards the Warspite crew. Alison continued her almost balletic moves, taking one of the attackers with each of the two swords she held.
York parried a club with his shield and chopped the leg from his attacker, but the others had pushed by the front line and onto the archers. Rowan and Alder didn't bother to unsheath their swords, but tackled their attackers to the ground and despatched them with daggers which suddenly appeared in their hands.
Lydia was not so quick. She dropped her bow and went for her sword, but the newcomer was on her. A copper axe came down on her shoulder, and she fell. York heard her cry and turned, to see Smita with both hands pointed at the newcomer.
"Get away from her, you bitch!" she said in a tight determined voice. Two bolts of green light flew from her hands and  struck the newcomer in the chest. It fell, and there was a sickly smell of burning flesh.
"Protect her by killing them." Green light flashed in Smita's eyes. "I will do what I can for her."

Lydia is wounded

Never before had York experienced the red mist, the wrath of battle, the berserk fury; but seeing the pink shirt splattered with blood triggered his rage. He howled at the newcomers, he screamed abuse at them, and dared them to come to him to die. The newcomers paused, and York made to descend the hill into their mass. It was Alison who stopped him. She darted in front of him, facing the newcomers and pushing at him with her back.
"York!" She snapped. "Don't be stupid. There are too many an if you die, we all die." York leant against her, his greater weight and strength forcing her forward inexorably to the shrieking newcomers. For some reason, there were tears on his cheeks. He felt hands on his harness. Rowan and Alder, swords in hand were pulling him back. He stopped.
Seeing the defenders on the hilltop exposed,  a knot of newcomers dashed at them. York became aware of the danger when he saw green fireballs exploding as Smita was the last defender standing on that side of the hill.
"Rowan, Alder ... go." The sisters disengaged and ran back up the hill to stand beside Smita. York heard bows twang and nearby newcomers suddenly sported arrows in head or body.  York and Alison backed slowly up to their original position.

The newcomers fell silent. The wounded and dead were being carried from the battle. They reformed into a tight circle around the hill. York took stock of the humans. One of the solders was down, and three ... or was it four of the volunteers. He looked at Lydia. Her eyes were closed. He couldn't see if she breathed, but Smita was busy with bandages and her hands glowed. She looked at him and nodded.

"We're out of arrows." Rowan and Alder had moved to his side. Blades drawn. Alison seemed unmoved by the carnage. She stood, eyes closed, lips moving in prayer or promise? Although it seemed that hours had passed, York knew that the fight had lasted but a few minutes. The armed drone was still some way off.

The newcomers advanced. Slowly. Shield held in front of them, spears advanced.

"They've finished playing." Alison said quietly. "They're coming to finish us off."  Lady Kelete began to sing, a mournful dirge.  The song was taken up by the other soldiers and was the only sound to be heard. Except ...
"What's that?" asked Smita.  It was a rumble. The song trailed off as the soldiers became aware of the new sound. It was getting louder.

The newcomers halted, also unsure and then from over a nearby hillock appeared a herd of goats. Big one, small ones, medium side ones; they galloped straight into the back ranks of the newcomers. Horns slashed and came out blooded; the bigger goats trampled, the smaller one stabbed and  hacked. The goats split and began to roll up the ranks of the newcomers. The humans could do little but stare. The goats ignored them, but viciously attacked all newcomers. In seconds it was over. The newcomers fled, the goats in pursuit, but the chase was short as the newcomers disappeared. Living, dead, wounded; one moment they were there the next they were not. With no immediate enemy, the goats recommenced more traditional goaty things like nibbling on an unsuspecting pompom, nodding at each other or gazing blankly into the distance. It was as if the newcomers had never existed.
Goats! Thousands of 'em. Well dozens.

The humans began the tasks common to the aftermath of all battles. They asked for the health of friends, attended to wounds, mourned the dead, or just settled to rest. The Collator and Lady Kelete moved among their survivors, offering comfort and praise.

After checking the others, York sat by Lydia, staring at her pale face. She was alive. She was asleep or unconscious. He told himself that if they could get her to the Warspite she would be fine. Unaware, he took one of her hands in his, and stroked it. 

"Ech- eg – ex – excuse me." The voice was scratchy, as if from long disuse. York turned to see an android some paces off. It was obviously old. Very old.  It was dented and battered and one arm had been crudely repaired with a rough copper plate. It was covered by a cloak made from the skin of a goat.

"Are you to thank for our deliverance?" York asked, The android paused, head twitching as as if struggling to access the right part of its memory.
"We .. wi ...wo ... will you be .. leaf .. lead ... leaving this planet?"
"Just as soon as we can."
"I request passage." Either the android was getting more used to using its voice, or it was a phrase it had practiced.
"Gladly. "Said York. "Do you have a name?" The android stopped and began the head twitching again.
"I do ... not ... know." The head turned from side to side, the neck making painful sounding squeaks and groans. 
"Melvin" said a small voice. Lydia had come round and was watching the android in a glazed-eyes sort of way. "I always liked the name Melvin." York stroked her cheek and smiled down at her.
"How about it? Will Melvin do until we find something better?"
"M ... mi ...M ...  Mel-vin." The android nodded slowly.

A large goat had ambled up to the Android. Smita emitted a small squeak of joy and ran to embrace its shaggy head. It was the goat she had healed, and it took her blandishments with stoic good nature.

Marvin talks with York and Lady Kelete, whilst Smita renews her acquaintance with a big goat

The humans took the time to bury the dead. The valuable white metal arms and armour were redistributed and what could not be carried was stashed for later collection.

York picked Lydia up, using her cloak as a sling to carry her. He sought the drone as a guide then began the long walk back to the Warspite. Behind him, the humans fell into a rough column. Melvn paused to commune in some way with the goats, then shrugged of the goat skin cape and hurried to join the marchers.


OK, so I was wrong. I shall add an epilogue which will explain something of Melvin's history. It will also sort out some of York's conundrums, but to be honest, I haven't got all the answers. I still don't know where the newcomers come from, or even what they are.

I can say that Lydia will be fine.

Probably.

[Techno 3]

Great stuff, Nobby !

[fsn]

Epilogue
Melvin was making up for the many years he had not spoken. York didn't mind. It helped take his mind off his worry and his muscles aching from carrying Lydia. Melvin had offered to carry her, but York had  quietly but firmly refused.

Melvin had been a service droid on the Mind of Man. When the ship had broken up he was lucky to have been bundled into an escape pod. His owner had died soon after landing, falling into a pompom to be poisoned and  absorbed.  He had stayed with a group of humans until they started talking about him as a potential source of white metal, then he had slipped away to continue as a hermit.

His role of the Goat Father was accidental. He had rescued a kid who had got too close to a pompom, and just stayed with the herd after that. He was able to do some basic first aid on wounded or hurt goats, could walk into the most dangerous pompom unscathed. He didn't communicate verbally with the goats – they were mute. Sometimes he wandered and they followed. Sometimes they wandered and he tagged along. The goats hated the newcomers – or at least feared them to a point where they would attack on sight.

Melvin was fortunate to have been able to modify his power plant to accept Brenda water as a fuel source, and was capable of making the small repairs he required, but was aware that he was severely degraded.  As parts of his memory had become corrupted, he had removed functions to preserve his core personality.

"I have deliberately erased so much." He said. "I used to be a steward, but I don't know how now, and I can't see colour any more." His square head scanned the surroundings. "Let me guess. Grey?"

York grunted in agreement.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry her?" Asked Melvin.
"She's fine." Lydia groaned gently.  Smita appeared and gave a perfunctory check of the wound and the bandage under the cloak. York thought he saw a green glow.  Smita nodded at York. He settled his burden more comfortably and resumed his trek.

Janine and Sean met them while they were some distance from the Warspite. They wore full  battle gear and trailed a floating stretcher. York made a mental note to chastise them for putting themselves in danger, then thanking them profusely. He placed Lydia on the stretcher where Janine and Smita bent over her for a moment before Janine announced "she'll be fine." Only Smita heard her add "but we need to get back as quickly as possible."

They reached the Warspite some hours later – tired, and thirsty, shoulders aching from the loads they carried. York took a minute to  examine the ship. It was canted slightly to one side, partially buried in a trench of its own making, but he was pleased to note the network of pipes and pumps feeding liquid into the fuel scoops for breaking down into hydrogen fuel and precious oxygen.

Alex met them, obviously relieved that Janine had returned safely. She patted his cheek affectionately in acknowledgement of his worry, but was in full doctor mode. She hurried the stretcher into the ship, Smita guiding it from the other side.
 
"She'll be fine. " Alex said. "
"Yeah. That's what everyone tells me." York desperately wanted to follow the medics, but realised he had more pressing duties. York and Alex took Lady Kelete and the Collator to a briefing room where refreshments were already set out.

Rowan and Alder gathered the others and undertook to feed, water and entertain them. Quillam appeared and berated Sean for skiving. He patted the young marine on the shoulder, and muttered "good lad. Good lad." It was as close as he would get to giving praise to his protege. He spotted Melvin.
"And who do we have here?" he asked.
"I am Melvin." replied the Android.
"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you. Melvin. Would you like to come in for a bit of what looks like, if you don't mind me saying, long overdue maintenance?"
"That would be most welcome".

In the briefing room, York made introductions and they settled gratefully into the padded seats. Kelete and the Collator looked around in interest, stroking and prodding the comfortable seats, and tapping the table experimentally. York noted that the screens had all be switched off. Not for the first time, Alex was demonstrating a certain perspicacity.

"Odd." Said the Collator. "I can't sense anyone outside of this room. "
"Oh! Is that distressing?" Asked Alex, ever the genial host. "Should we relocate?"
"No. It is just ... odd." The Collator smiled briefly. "Can you let the others know, so they don't fret?"
"Already done." Alex returned the smile.

The Collator looked at York. "You will be leaving soon. Perhaps we need to answer at least one of your questions, but first I should explain what it means to be a Collator. Most human settlements have a Collator."
"You are leaders?" Asked Alex.
"No." The Collator pursed her lips. "Leadership is only needed when there is change." She smiled sadly. "On Brenda, nothing has changed for a long time. To be a Collator one has to be able to send messages to another over great distances. That way, we keep each other up to date with what goes on – Ip movements, births and deaths, creating a new colony. Mostly very routine and boring. I have been communing with my fellow Collators and we do not feel we can should you to inform the authorities of our presence." Lady Kelete nodded in agreement. " We have been away from the rest of humanity for a long time and this " she indicated the ship around her "is confusing and frightening." She lowered her head. "We would also ask that you do not accept those requesting passage. We are few enough, and cannot afford to loose the young – who would be most keen to be away."  Her head jerked up at Alex's sharp intake of breath. "I know. It is a difficult ask, but please honour our wishes."
Alex looked at York, who was staring at the table. Seeing no dissent his leader, Alex curtly nodded his agreement.   


Janine entered the room. She was wearing her medical outfit, and looked tired but satisfied. Seeing York's strained face, she said. "She'll be fine."
"Everyone tells me that." Lamented York. Janine smiled.
"Smita did some really excellent field work. It was a nasty wound, but she will recover. She's sleeping now. Smita is with her." York only nodded.
 
Janine addressed the wider room.
"I'm sorry to interrupt." She started "You must be the Lady Kelete and the Collator?" The two nodded their assent. "Well, "continued Janine "I've not been idle. I've been doing some research, and I have some ... offerings." York frowned in puzzlement. Alex smiled. The Brendans looked confused. Janine took a box from a side table and confidently took a seat between York and Alex. She opened the box, and took out a sheaf of papers, bound in a loose file.
"I have been researching the Mind of Mankind and managed to dig up quite a bit about what it was and who was on it. " She laid the papers aside. "Also, I've been doing some analysis of the soil hereabouts, and I think it can be used to grow plants." York noticed the perplexed look on the faces of his guests.
"Think pompoms without the danger, and they stay where they're put."
"And, added Janine ... some of them are edible. We can grow plants here on the Warspite, but we have some plants and some seeds that may well grow here on Brenda. I'd like to check for compatibility with you digestive systems first, of course. We wouldn't want to poison you with a tomato." Janine was rather taken aback by the less than uproarious reception from the Brendans. In fact they looked confused.

"Change can happen." York favoured the Collator with a lopsided grin. The Lady Kelete stiffened slightly.

"We thank you for the offerings ... but I don't think we should accept the writings." She looked to the Collator who indicated agreement with lowered eyelids. "However, I'd like to risk a tomato."

The conference broke up. The Brendans chose to camp in the shelter of the Warspite's hull, where they were plied with various foodstuffs by Janine, ably if reluctantly aided by Rowan and Alder.

York cleaned himself up, then took himself to the medic bay. Smita was there, drowsing, still wearing the faded glory of her planet side clothing. He gently woke her, and received reassurance that Lydia would make a full recovery, before the young doctor betook herself off to clean up and probably go to bed.

York sat by Lydia's bedside, and fell into a light sleep.

The next day, the Brendans began the trip home, carrying a bizarre assortment of plants and bags of seeds. They paused to watch the Warspite rise slowly from the ground, getting faster and gently climbing until it disappeared from view.

[fsn]

That's it for Brenda. Well, for now certainly. If you remember, I created Brenda to a) fill a table with terrain for £10 and b) create some low tech level Traveller rules where there is a high degree of psionic ability which is folklore rather than science. I didn't use much of the terrain, but I now have a Traveller subset.

What Brenda lacks is variety. I'm not sure how much more I can squeeze out of pompoms, Ips and goats. Having said that, I do now seem to have quite a few Brendan Humans, Ips, newcomers and goats, so it would be a shame to let them go unused. I'll have a ponder. 

The game has also left me with some unresolved issues.

• Who or what are the newcomers? We don't have transporters in Traveller, so how did they just appear and disappear? 
• Smita and York have both had their psi unlocked. What happens now? 
• How do Rowan and Alder have a psi-shield when they have no psi ability? Does it something to do with their army childhood? 
• I've know Alison for many years, and had no idea that she might have had a child, let alone lost one

To satisfy what little curiosity you may have, I use a narrative style of gaming. Like ancient historians, I like to create the speeches of my subjects.

I set out a broad story line with some key events. (Warspite lands/crashes, meets humans, meets Marvin, takes off), then let the die decide what actually happens -Smita got her psi -powers switched on, poor old Arturius got deadded before he met the crew, the Collator ko's the drone. I was going to do a dungeon delve with Arturius leading the crew underground in the search for minerals(?) and missing humans - but he forgot to look behind him. 

I didn't fight the whole battle on the hill. I threw a D6 for Lady Kelete's troops and the volunteers. A score of 1 meant that there were 1d4 casualties. In return, they would see off 1d6 newcomers. I did fight the Warspite crew. The newcomers had a few rounds of attacking in small groups (D4+2) which I reasoned were young warriors seeking to gain honour or experience.

The goat attack was a deus ex machina. Once the newcomers got serious they would steamroller the        humans. They had been unconcerned by arrows and hadn't noticed the drone, so I had to do something extreme, and I had to get Melvin into the picture.   




Interlude 1
Marvin had been disassembled. Bits of him lay strewn across the machine shop. His legs bubbled in a cleaning bath, Sean was testing the working of one of the arms and Quillam was buffing years of accumulated scratches and dents from the android's body.

York was talking to the box that was Marvin's processor and memory. The android was refusing an updated body, but York had talked him into having an upgrade to memory and processor. The tricky bit was integrating new technology with the old; preserving what was Marvin whilst updating his capacity.

"I have a mission." Explained the disembodied Marvin. "My owner, the Lady Aryn Linson charged me with finding the Lady Sana Lezal, and passing on a message to her."
"The Lady Sana will be long dead by now." Said York distractedly. He was watching the link between old and new technology forming and strengthening.
"Then I will find the Lady Sana's descendent and pass my message to her."
"What is the message?" the android paused.
"I don't know. It is private. It will be revealed when I see the Lady Sana." York considered that he could probably crack an 800 year old security code, but he was tired and wasn't that interested in the emotional babbling of long dead nobility. 
   

Interlude 2
Alison was guided to Smita by the ship's internal security systems. The young doctor was sat cross legged on the floor of one of the cargo bays. Her hands were on her knees, palms up. Green flames rose from each palm in turn, flaring and then dying. Her eyes were closed.

"Smita. Are you all right?" Alison asked gently. Smita opened her eyes, which seemed to be made of green fire.
"Smita?" Alison pressed. The younger woman looked unblinkingly at her with the green-fire eyes for some seconds before slowing shutting them. When she opened them again, her eyes had returned to their usual dark brown. 
"No." She said simply. "I have spent my life trying to be a healer, and now I have taken life." A flare rose from her right hand. "I have been given a  gift or a curse. I can heal with this gift " - flare from the left hand – "or I can kill" flare from the right hand. "I don't know why I have changed or if the change has completed." Flares rose from both hands. Smita watched them disinterestedly.
"You saved Lydia." Alison pointed out. "You saved her by killing her attacker, and then you saved her by healing." Smita's eyes turned to green fire again. Her hands became fiery green orbs, and she seemed to grow a pale green radiance around her body.
"But I failed ..." the voice was not Smita's, but sounded to Alison like a demon from the stories from her youth. "I do not kill, it is horrible to take life. I do not hold life as cheaply as you do! I would not kill my own child!"
Seeing the shock and hurt on Alison's face, Smita became immediately the girl that she had been just days before.
"I'm so sorry, Alison, I didn't mean that." The voice was back to normal. The green fire had gone. Alison's mouth moved, but she could not form words.  She turned and hurried from the cargo bay.

Smita looked about her, as if unaware where she was. She shivered, and miserably wrapped her arms around her thin body to stop the shaking.   


Interlude 3
Alex knew Janine wasn't asleep, even though she had her back to him as he entered the bed-room. He slid into bed, and nestled her into his arms. He kissed her shoulder.
"What's the matter?"  He asked. Other women may have played the "oh nothing" game and made him dig for the answer, but this was Janine.
"I need a holiday." He laughed softly, and felt her stiffen in his arms.
"I'm serious." She said. "We all need some time off this ship." Alex said nothing. He waited for her to continue. He felt her relax again.
"We all need a break from this ship, from being in danger. We need some time to feel safe and breathe real air."  Alex was about to bristle at the implied slight on his ship, but she sensed his objection and hurried on.
"It's not the ship. The ship is fine, it's just we all need a change. Poor Smita need some time to process what happened to her on Brenda ..."
"... and Alison has been like a hot cat on a roof" added Alex, thinking about how the bodyguard had been tense since they'd left the planet.
"The boys worked really hard getting the Warspite back into space – they could do with a break." Janine always called Sean and Quillam "the boys".  Alex grunted.
"You too, dear.  You worked yourself to a frazzle too." She kissed one of his encircling arms.
"We're going to need a period in dock when we get to Eric." Pondered Alex. "Perhaps York will consider letting some of us have some time on planet while the ship is being properly repaired."
"I'm sure you can sort it out with him" she said. Alex kissed her neck again, but she was already asleep.   


Next: Alex and Janine go on holiday, and who they met there.

[sunjester]

Thanks for posting this, I've enjoyed reading the adventures of the Warspite crew.

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Brilliant ending to the beginning

[Ithoriel]

Good read. Lots of fun! Thank you.

[Techno 3]

What Mike said !

[MonAtArms]

Thank you very much! I look forward to your future adventures, whether during your holidays or on new journeys. I really miss Traveller a lot.

[fsn]

Janey was bored. She sat in the cockpit of PEM1, dividing her time between monitoring the bank of camera feeds from around the PEM, and staring out one of the old fashioned circular ports.

"Join the Exploration Service," they said "it will be fun and exciting." Janey had joined straight from school and found she had a flair and a love for oversize vehicles. Tractors, tanks, haulers – she'd driven them all in the last 8 years, but she'd jumped at the chance of looking after a PEM. PEM1 was big and ugly and old fashioned and she'd loved it at first sight. She patted the hull affectionately.

She'd been taken with the PEM as part of the exploration expedition of the planet known as Eric, an archaeological ramble literally digging into the lost civilisation. I mean, an archaeological dig on a desert planet? How romantic! She's seen enough entertainment shows to know that archaeological parties came in three parts. Firstly, there was the crusty old professor – totally dedicated to their trade,  but with a heart of gold if they took to you. Then there were the juniors. They were young and energetic and when they weren't asking the professor for advice, they were knocking boots somewhere. The there was the Practical One. The Practical One was always older than the students, but younger than the professor – about 40, witty, intelligent, with a wry grin and kind eyes, and gentle hands. Janey shivered.

For a change, she gazed out of a different port. They were parked in what someone fondly thought was a hive of industry on Eric. A short runway, some fuel tanks and a scatter of tawdry buildings which looked as if they'd been been dropped straight from orbit without grav-chutes.

The town on Eric. PEM on the right.
The other side of the twon
She'd been right about the professor. Prof Exe was a full measure of irritability poured into a body barely a metre tall, and carried one arm awkwardly, with a twisted wrist. She's been injured at a dig years ago, but apparently never seen the need for corrective surgery. Exe had a voice that could strip paint or make juniors wet themselves. Well, at least Janey thought junior underwear was not at risk from Exe on this expedition, because the juniors on this expedition had apparently come straight from the school of front line combat. Not only that, but the Practical One – whose name was Rese - looked as if they could take the two students in bare knuckle boxing without breaking into a sweat. It was all very odd.

Worse still, everyone on the expedition was female. The prof was female, Rese was female, the juniors were female. Even the PEM crew were all female. She looked across at he co-pilot Firz, who at least was a Vargyr. Not for the first time, Janey wondered if Vargyr tongues were rough and raspy.

Firz looked up from her reading, ears twitching. Janey wasn't sure if that was mild annoyance or curiosity, so she scanned the screens again and then went back to looking out a port. There was only one ship on the landing pads – a sleek pinnace of a model she didn't recognise. There was an older couple who'd been frolicking about like young puppies – taking meals under a big umbrella, walking hand in hand, constantly in each other's space. Lucky them. They were attended by a couple of attendants who never seemed totally relaxed, but discretely kept an eye on the older couple.

Firz and Janey didn't mix much with the archaeologists. Fitz was afraid of the professor, her ears always went back submissively when the prof looked at her. Firz called the two juniors Sneaky and Psycho. Janey tacitly agreed. They were actually called Stine and Breen. Breen was obviously not on board for her brains. She was over 6' tall and built like a command bunker. She was obviously the fetcher and carrier, and constantly played with a blade, sharpening it, juggling with it or throwing it repeatedly at targets. Stine seemed to live in the shadows, seemed to enjoy popping out from behind things to scare the life out of the PEM crew. 

At least the archaeologists kept the crew of PEM2 away. The PEM2 crew were asleep at the far end of the PEM from Janey in PEM2. Bora was fine – young, bright and very enthusiastic. PEM was her first field mission, and she had yet to get her boots dusty, but Patra was impossible. She made much of being a university graduate, and made herself out to be a hero because she had seen combat and lost an eye in, Patra insisted, battle conditions. Patra insinuated that this made her a veteran, a hero. Firz had opined that Patra would have been better to have ducked – which would have not made her a hero, but would have meant she had both eyes. That didn't go down well. 

A bigger problem for Janey is that Patra thought that Patra should command the PEM, and made her feelings clear. Often. However Janey had been given command because of her service and experience, and she was constantly slapping down the PEM2 driver.

The PEM2 crew were on downtime, asleep or bad playing cards or Janey pondered, perhaps playing in more interesting ways. The archaeologists were in a super secret meeting in the town; so super-super secret that they hadn't taken any communications devices with them in case they were overheard. Not for the first time, Janey wondered what about archaeology would be super-super-super secret.

"Vehicles coming." Firz had looked up from her book and was looking out of a port across the town. The lights of a number of vehicles could be seen approaching, moderate speed, line astern. Janey focussed a camera on them, not because they were alarming, but because they were something different. The archaeologists had gone off to meet someone. Very hush, hush. They didn't carry comms devices in case they could be overheard. Janey didn't realise archaeology was so secretive. For all Janey knew, the approaching vehicles were the people the Professor had come to meet. Four small grav vehicles. No weapons apparent. The vehicles disappeared from her direct view, obscured by the town. Janey sighed.  Firz's ears twitched.

Janey went to make herself some tea, and rid herself of the last one. She stretched luxuriously as the hot drink dribbled into her "I like big ones" mug, and made a note to have a go at fixing the hot water flow rate. Tomorrow. Maybe the next day. She sipped the scalding liquid as she made her way back to her seat. Firz was still reading. Janey took another sweep of the area,more from habit than for anything

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to some white smoke rising from the far side of the town. Inconsequentially Janey realised that if the town had a name, she didn't know it.  Firz looked past her out the porthole, then directed one of the cameras at it.

The raiders arrive

"Fire?" Asked the Vargyr. Janey's finger hovered over the alarm button, then firmly pressed the button to launch a drone. Firz powered up her drone controls and piloted the vehicle over the town. She bared her teeth as the cameras on the drone showed the line of grav vehicles had dropped off a dozen figures, armed and dressed similarly. They were throwing grenades into building, and following it up with some kind of automatic fire. The one meeting place in the town, on the far side from the PEM was well ablaze. Several locals were running from the burning building, some falling as the raiders shot them down.

The Warspite and PEM crews flee from the raiders

Firz said something in a Vargyr dialect that Janey didn't understand, but understood perfectly. Janey powered up the PEM1 weapons turrets and pushed the alarm button at the same time. Within seconds Bora was on the intercom. Janey quickly briefed her.

"What are your orders?" Patra interjected. Janey frowned. This wasn't like Patra at all. There was an odd tone to Patra's voice. Janey filed it away as something to think about later.
"Let's split. You go north, we'll go south. Objective is to pick up the archaeologists."
"Roger. Wilco." Patra was crisp, and immediately Janey noted the link between the two PEMs being withdrawn.
"Found them." Firz said calmly. "The Prof is down." Janey looked at the drone feed, the archaeologists were running from the smoke, the tiny professor held in Rese's arms. The old couple from the pinnace were with them.
"PEM, this is Warspite 1." The voice was unknown to Janey.
"Warspite 1, identify." She ordered.
"PEM, we're in the pinnace beside you. We're going to collect our crew. Please try not to shoot us." Janey could see the two  attendant leave the pinnace, armed and armoured, and moving as if they very much knew their business.  By this time, the archaeologists were just a few hundred yards from the PEM, but they were one short. Janey noticed that one on the old couple was missing.

Rowan and Alder to the rescue

Rese and her tiny bundle did not make for the PEM. The old woman from the pinnace was tugging at the bigger woman and they changed direction to head towards the pinnace. The other two archaeologists continued to run for the PEM.
"PEM, this is Janine ... I'm a doctor. I'm going to save your crewmate. Please can you save mine."   
"Janine ... PEM. We'll do what we can." Janey promised.

Throughout, more building had begun to burn; the drone faithfully monitoring the progress of the raiders. PEM2 was moving slowly past towards the raider vehicles. She heard a click and heavy breathing.
"Stine and Breen ... we're going to sort them out."  They had armoured up and collected weapons and dropped out of PEM1, headed back into the town.

The Warspite duo had backtracked the escaping archaeologists, presumably trying to find their crew mate.  The were confronted by a trio of raiders, and in a short exchange of fire two of the raiders went down. One of the Warspite crew took cover behind a small vehicle and began exchanging shots with more raiders emerging from the smoke. The other Warspite charged the survivor from the original trio. A blade flashed and the raider went down.


Janey felt the PEM1 shiver as PEM2 detached She bit her lip, realising that PEM2 now had some tricky manoeuvring to do to get past PEM1 and Janey was mildly surprised that Patra had not pointed this out. Perhaps she's been too hard on her monocular compatriot.

More smoke indicated another building was being razed.  Janey vibrated in irritation waiting for PEM2 to pass in front of PEM1.  Stine and Breen had come across a group of raiders and entered a firefight with them. Janey could see the flash of lasers. She hadn't been aware that the archaeologists had sophisticated weapons, or indeed combat armour.

PEM2 had cleared PEM1 and opened fire with the autocannon in the chin.  The feed from the drone showed one of the raider vehicles catching fire.

"Warspite, the is Warspite 1. Janine, we've found him."
"Oh thank goodness Rowan, how is he?"
"I'm not a doctor Janine. He's unconscious. He has a wound in the leg, but he's alive."
"Can you put ..."
"I've already put a pressure bandage on the wound, Janine. If we can get clear of these bad actors, we can get him back to the pinnace."

Janey kicked PEM1 into movement. "Warspite this is PEM1. We'll try and take some of the pressure off you so you can recover your crewman."
"PEM1 – appreciated."

Stine and Breen were still engaged with a cluster of raiders. Another building had been set alight. PEM2 had destroyed another raider vehicle, and was exchanging fire with some raiders whose combat rifles had no effect on the big vehicle.

PEM2 engaging the raider vehices

"Stine, this is PEM1. We're too big to get in the town. We'll cover you – move south east to link with Warspite crew. " There was no real response but a growl.
 
PEM1 opened up on some raiders who were trying to set another building alight with some kind of grenade whilst shooting at any town citizen who appeared. The raiders withdrew.

The group that confronted PEM2 had collected heavier weapons from one of the vehicles. Two rockets were fired. One missed – or bounced off the PEM's armour – the second struck between the crew cockpit and one of the big wheels.

Janey heard a cry of pain on the comms; she recognised it as Bora. A spray of autocannon fire from PEM2 drove the rocketeers back, then there was Bora's voice, weak but resolute came.
"PEM1 this is PEM2. I'm hurt but can continue. Ouch.  I don't want to look. There's a lot of blood." She whimpered. "But PEM2 is damaged. Drive is out – no steering. Patra will continue to engage with the autocannon."
"PEM2, this is Janine. Hang on, I'm coming over." Janey marvelled at the bravery of the old doctor, running around a battlefield to help someone she's never even met.

Having said that, the battle was winding down. The raiders had perhaps not expected such heavy resistance, and the drone showed them pulling back and the survivors were piling into their remaining vehicles. Within seconds they were skimming away from the town, leaving burning buildings and dazed survivors.


Note:
This went far too quickly. There were 12 raiders with advanced combat rifles and access to RPGs, the Warspite crew carried gauss rifles with underslung grenade launchers, and the PEM crew used laser carbines.  Raiders wore cloth armour, Alder and Rowan wore combat armour and the PEM crew wore cloth with reflec addition against lasers.

The PEMs were constrained by their size and so inability to move through the town. As usual the terrain I added shaped the action in a way I wasn't really expecting/hoping for. I didn't deploy the townsfolk. They were NPCs who took no active part in the combat.

Alex is fine. He'll spend a few days in bed rest, probably with Janine in close attendance. Bora is also fine. Shrapnel from the rocket strike embedded in her lower chest. Janine was able to stabilise the wound on PEM2, then use the better facilities of the pinnace for further treatment. Prof Exe is in a bad way. She has a head wound that Janine couldn't immediately fix, so Prof Exe is now in a medic low-berth.

Who were the raiders? They seemed to want to destroy the town but left the fuel stores. Perhaps they were after that.

The bigger question is what is going on with the archaeologists? Why are they so secretive? What is going to happen to Prof Exe? The town doesn't have facilities to heal her. Will she be taken to the Warspite where Janine and Smita can give her first class care?

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Great report Nobby.
Good questions too

[Ithoriel]

I liked that. Nice AAR.

I love the scenery, simple but very effective.

[Techno 3]

Very interesting and enjoyable, Nobby !👍😀

[Raider4]

I liked that. Nice AAR.

I love the scenery, simple but very effective.

Fully agree, especially about the scenery. 

[fsn]

Thank for the kind words, chaps.

[fsn]

Melvin stood in the Warspite's machine shop. He'd been offered a stateroom, but said he'd prefer to make his abode in the machine shop. It made no difference to him where he spent his down time. In reality he didn't care. He had no capacity to care – to make such value judgements. Practically, he was better off in the machine shop where he was surrounded by tools and lubricants and machines that could repair and improve his old body.

Old body. York had offered to transfer Melvin's main processor and memory into a new chassis, but again, Melvin had declined. Here, logic failed him, and he put his refusal down what he had labelled the whine.

He knew that he had been given a mission by Lady Aryn Linson, his last owner. She had given him a message to deliver to Lady Sana Lezal. Lady Aryn was dead. He knew she was dead, had died giving him the message, but that part of his memory had been lost so he didn't know how she had died. Lady Sana was also likely dead, but Melvin still had a message to deliver. It was constant in his sub-processes, a reminder that had been with him for 800 years, always there. Ever present. Melvin supposed it would in humans be like tinnitus – a constant whine that he could sometimes ignore, but never be rid of. York had visualised it as a piece of pseudo—code.

10 Are you with Lady Sana Lezal in person?
20 If yes, go to 40.
30 Goto 10
40 Next routine.

Melvin didn't know what the next routine was – couldn't articulate the message until presumably he was in front of Lady Sana Lezal.  He knew Lady Sana was dead, and yet that did not stop the whine.

"Athene?" Melvin vocalised. The Warspite had three AI systems. Artemis, goddess of the hunt, was tasked with the sensors and defences. Aphrodite, goddess of love, nurtured the crew and their environment. Athene, goddess of wisdom, was the Warspite's librarian.

"Yes Melvin?"
"Can you find the most senior descendent of Lady Sana Lezal?"
"We have not been in contact with a live data node for 31 days, so any information given may not be up to date."
"What can happen in 31 days?" Asked Melvin, reflecting on his long time spent as a friend of goats.
"Well, we can jump into a system, be knocked out the sky by a secret defence ring, have one of the crew start glowing, have a battle with unknown and mysterious creatures, repair the ship, jump to what is supposed to be a starport but is in fact an orbital skeleton, spend some down time on the planet and be attacked by unknown raiders."
"Fair point. Well made." In time, Melvin could plug directly into a data port, but York had forbidden access. He was worried about the jury rigged interface between Melvin's core and the new memory and processors. For now, Melvin would have to interact with Athene just as a human would do.

"The most senior, direct descendant of Lady Sana Lexal is Major-General Bowery Lexal. He is retired and spends his time on his yacht."
"I suppose you don't know where he is?"
"I don't. Even if I did, the data would be at least 31 days old."
"Thank you."

Melvin was slightly surprised but gratified that he had said "thank you". York had given him a basic liaison routine to help him interact with humans in polite society. Melvin has asked for steward and medic to be added, so that he could contribute in some way to the life onboard Warspite.

This proved to be a wise choice. After the attack on the town, York had taken a pinnace down to Eric, along with Smita, Alison and Melvin. He had returned to Warspite with Janine and the wounded Alex, as well as the medic pod containing the tiny professor and their hulking bodyguard. The Warspite crew had spent some time helping the townspeople - providing medical help, rescuing what could be rescued and where necessary, helping lay the dead to rest. Melvin had become quite expert in digging graves, and standing by whilst the families grieved. He had made a note to access some appropriate words for such occasions. He knew the words were practically useless, but he observed their use by others could give comfort to the survivors.

He had discovered a survivor. He was clearing a building that had been severely grenaded. The room was a jumble of partially destroyed furniture, collapsed walls and the charred possessions of the family that had lived there. He had rescued a child's bed and some toys, taken them outside. When he re-entered the room, he had lifted a collapsed cupboard and beneath lay an older woman. Her eyes were closed, but her chest moved slightly. He called for support and Smita and Alison arrived to carry the woman from the dangerous building. When he emerged from the wreck, a man had stopped him and thanked him profusely, his eyes filled with tears. Again, Melvin was unable to provide adequate response.




Janine and Smita had operated on the professor who now lay in a medically induced coma, but with a good chance of a full or nearly full recovery.

Melvin had recorded these new memories. He regretted the loss of his life before Brenda. Brenda had been a blank, the days that rolled together partly because of his limited memory, and partly because of their unmitigated sameness.

Still, there was the whine. That must be attended to.

The whine would have to wait. Eric was not a well visited planet. There was a courier service though. The courier had left for "civilisation" the day before the raiders attack.  The courier took seven days on the outbound trip, then spent seven more in maintenance, resupply and collecting the mail and trinketry bound for Eric. The return journey would take a further seven days. If the courier turned right around then it would probably be 21 days to in travel and collecting a rescue mission.

The Warspite crew had agreed to stay to support the town for those 42 days. By day 12 rescue and repair work had largely been completed. Defences had been built and the town was accepting a new normality. It was a smaller town, made smaller by destroyed building and slain townsfolk, but the people who lived on Eric were perforce hardy and resilient.

The crews of the Warspite and the PEM had grown quite close during the rescue operation. The Warspite had hosted the PEM crew for a few days, leaving the PEM itself locked up and unmanned. Even the professor's bodyguard, who had kept a vigil at her bedside, had been persuaded to leave her bedside to join the event and Sean and the one called Janey had discretely withdrawn and not been seen for many hours.

There had been no further sign of the raiders, and as time passed, there was rising expectation if not excitement for the return of the courier.

Then, on day 17, Professor Exe woke up, and things changed.


This is the set up for my Easter session, in which the PEM goes on expedition, and Sean gets angry.

[Techno 3]

Great stuff, Nobby  !

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Resounding cool Nobby